"Ask me to stay." a gruff familiar voice stated.

Sansa's head whipped around to see Tyrion Lannister standing at the threshold of her study staring at her with that same… intense softness that he has in the crypt days before. The night that they had spoken of their marriage and had another unspoken conversation with their eyes behind her father's crypt thinking they were going to die. They had not spent much time together since that fateful night. They had been busy grieving, cleaning up, rebuilding, trying to survive, and planning for all that was to come. Sansa knew something had passed between them that night but the time and emotional energy had not been available for her to think about it. But here he was at her door, looking for something from her. Something she didn't know if she had in her anymore even without other matters to consider.

As always when faced with a confrontation of which she was unprepared, Sansa donned her armor of courtesy. "Of course my Lord, would you like some wine?"

Tyrion took a step forward and the serious look on his handsome face took on a tinge of sadness. "You know that wasn't want I meant. Ask me to stay Sansa."

She looked at him blankly, pretending not to understand. She wasn't sure why she bothered, she knew he saw through her. With a grimace on his face, he turned and left without another word to her, until evening the next day.

This time he found her on the parapets of Winterfell surveying the damage. She was utterly dismayed at the prospect of rebuilding in winter during a war. She was feeling weak and vulnerable when he appeared as if he knew she needed him. Silently he came to her and laid his hand on top of hers as it clutched the wall.

Embarrassed she choked out "There is so much to do. Jon and Arya go south with you and the queen. I don't know how I can do this alone."

Tyrion said with a squeeze of her hand. "You do not have to. Ask me to stay. I will help you rebuild."

"You have a responsibility to Daenerys." she said looking down at him as the wind tossed his curls around. She wished she could run her fingers through his hair and a shiver shot through her at the thought.

"I have a responsibility to you Sansa. Ask me to stay. Let me worry about the queen." He held her eyes and once again kissed her gloved hand as wildfire coursed up her arm.

She did not answer. He held her hand for a while longer until she finally turned to leave unable to control the tears. Tears for her home and tears for these overwhelming feelings for him falling in equal number.

Each day for a week he would find her uncannily alone and each day he said "Ask me to stay." As the week progressed, he became more despondent in his tone as did Sansa. She both welcomed and dreaded his company and her heart ached with such fervor she wasn't sure if she was becoming ill.

Finally, the evening before he was to depart, he appeared very late and very drunk at the door of her bedchamber. She had hastily donned a robe to answer the door, her auburn locks in a loose braid. Swaying slightly, he stared up at her as if she was the maiden incarnate.

"Please Sansa, just ask me to stay. I can't…" His eyes skittered across the bed and her partial undress becoming suddenly large realizing his words might be interpreted with a double meaning. The fear of her reaction appeared to sober him. "I didn't mean...Sansa." He frowned for once at a loss for words.

Finally, he shrunk into his already diminutive form before finding a reserve of courage and grasping her bare hands in his pulling them to his lips. "I'm in love with you Sansa Stark. The thought of being apart from you is unbearable. Please, I beg of you. Ask me to stay."

Her voice breaking she said "You're needed in the south. The queen will need your help to overthrow Cersei. The good of Westeros is at stake. I could never forgive myself, if your absence changed the course of history. Even if it was for love." She cupped his face and kissed his forehead before closing the door gently and bursting into tears.

A short time later, unable to sleep she sought out the one person who might be able to help her. She found him in his chair under the Weirwood tree. Bran rarely left the spot anymore and spent most nights out here, using Ghost to fetch a servant when he needed his physical body cared for.

"Bran" she began her mind a jumble of questions and what ifs.

"You won't ask him to stay." Bran said and for once was looking at her and not past her.

"Oh" she sighed, feeling her heart break.

"No, it wasn't the right thing to ask." Bran said, his mouth almost quirking into a smile.

The next morning Tyrion searched the courtyard full of the departing army looking desperately for Sansa. He had made a fool of himself last night and did not want that to be the last she ever saw of him. Finally, the horns blared signaling their departure and Tyrion climbed into the coach dejected, miserable and prepare to take it out on Varys, his traveling companion. He was shocked to see Sansa sitting in the coach as if she was waiting for him. Her smile lit up as he climbed aboard. Before he could open his mouth Sansa said "You never asked me the right thing Tyrion."

"And what was that?." he asked delighted to have her here with him.

"You never asked me to come with you." she smiled at him.

"What of Winterfell? What of your people?" Tyrion asked still incredulous that she was here with him.

"Bran reminded me that he was a crippled boy of 10 when he was acting Lord of Winterfell and that he was perfectly capable of managing things with Samwell Tarly's help until we return."

"In that case, will you come with me sweet Sansa?" Tyrion asked reaching for her hands once more

"To the end of the world Tyrion Lannister." she said as she leaned forward to give him a passionate kiss.

They did not come up for air until Winterfell was far in the distance.